Loss of a Dear Friend
by IsebellaLynnette
Summary: Will's been sent to the Fissure to investigate strange rumors about some foreigners wanting to take over. But when he doesn't come back, Halt and Horace go after him. There they find out just what they're up against...
1. Chapter 1

**Loss of a Dear Friend**

_Chapter One: A Sticky Situation_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice.**

Summary: Will isn't having the best of luck right now. His bowstring's broken, he's trapped on the edge of a cliff, and a _very_ angry axman is coming at him. And for some reason, this isn't as funny as it seemed during the embassy to Celtica, joking around with Gilan and Horace.

* * *

I got my inspiration for this from a forum topic that MeL replied to! *gaspies* I hope you won't, like, kill me for doing this, but...well...let's just say that Will's stuck in a pretty bad situation right now.

And it's not nearly as funny as the scenario seemed in book 2.

* * *

Will cursed himself for not noticing the man who had just attacked him sooner. There was a deep wound on his right side that was bleeding freely, and he had several minor cuts as well.

His bowstring was broken after one of those huge, sweeping strokes of the ax. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He was stuck at the very edge of this cliff, by the Fissure, with a spiteful, _extremely_ angry axman coming at him. All he had left were his two knives. That was it. Not nearly as funny as the joke had seemed during the embassy to Celtica, which seemed ages ago.

He closed his eyes. "I would be grateful if you would allow me to say my last words here."

His opponent harrumphed, then grudgingly accepted. "After all, it's not like you told them everything you had to say before you went on your little mission here."

Will took a deep breath, then began.

"Halt...thank you for being like a father to me. You taught me...comforted me...helped me...showed me the right way to go in life. Thank you."

Memories of the past ten years, especially through his apprenticeship, rushed through his brain, almost overwhelming him with their intensity. Over the years, Halt's head had become more and more gray from worry. Will almost grinned at the thought. And over the years, Halt had become much, much more than a mere teacher to Will. Especially their latest adventure together, going off to save the sixth kingdom of Hibernia, Clonmel.

"Horace, you were the best friend a man could have. You were always there to watch my back...well, except now, heh. But I want you to know that you're _amazing_ with that sword of yours. Thanks again for all you've done, starting with the boar hunt all those years ago."

Will now remembered how they'd fought so much as little kids, how that fierce enmity had changed miraculously into a strong friendship. They'd been through a lot together. Of course, there was the boar hunt, then the embassy to Celtica, the reunion in Skandia, fighting the Tualaghi in Arrida, and then the investigation of mysterious events up in Norgate Fief. And most recently, their quest to save Halt's homeland.

"Gilan, you were a great friend and an expert Ranger. Thanks for your guidance and counseling over the long years, especially my last year of apprenticeship. I'll never forget what you've done for me. To all the other Rangers, thank you as well, for setting an excellent example. Even you, Meralon."

Will smiled weakly at the last words, remembering the only actually stupid Ranger in the Corps. The axman drew breath to speak, but Will cut him off.

"George and Jenny, two of my great childhood friends, I wish you the best of luck and success in the years to come. Show them what you've got! George, I didn't get to know you very well, but I know that you're a good person and that you'll be the best Scribemaster ever. Jenny, never stop cooking those pies. You'll be the most famous cook in all the world at this rate. Keep it up."

Again, Will paused. This time, he opened his eyes minimally, just barely enough to let him see his opponent's position, then closed them. And again, Will started before the axman could interrupt his final words.

"And, last but not least, Alyss. Alyss...I loved you, and I still do. I wish something fierce that I could have told you exactly how much I love you before...this. But after I'm gone, please remember me. Don't sink too deep into the hole. It will get better, I promise. Please don't do anything...rash after my death. Just continue being the wonderful, beautiful woman you already are. Thank you for loving me back. Be the best one in the Diplomatic Service yet.

So now I've said my last farewells. Please remember me, but don't fall into depression. Look to the next day. It will always get better in the morning. And now..."

Suddenly, he unsheathed his saxe knife and plunged it through the thin chain mail armor into the axman's heart before his startled opponent could react.

"Goodbye."

He felt himself falling, ever so slowly, a very long distance. He couldn't stop himself, for there was a long tunnel before him. Its bright light was welcoming and the hole grew larger and larger and then...

Nothing.

All was black. There was no more pain, or sorrow, or feelings of loss.

Will was at peace now.

* * *

*sniffle* I'm sorry. It's horrible, isn't it?

But now, how will Halt and the others react to the horrible news? Look for the next chapter to find out...

PS: If you're wondering how I knew what Horace and Will and Halt had been sent to do in Book 8, it was from the summary, not the book itself. XD


	2. Chapter 2

_OK, I know a lot of people were wondering after my 1st chapter why Will died. So I edited it a little to make it more clear, and now I present to you the second chapter! Hopefully this isn't as confusing._

* * *

Halt paced worriedly in front of Crowley's desk, muttering to himself, his brow furrowed in thought and worry as he considered the situation and, finally, met the gaze of the agonized warrior in front of him.

"You're going to have to find Will, Horace. Find him and bring him back here. Try to see what's taking him so long. Hopefully, nothing serious will have happened and he's just been injured." He nodded and added, almost to himself, "Yes, that has to be it. He'll probably show up in a couple of days." He looked up again at Horace and continued, "Stick to the main roads, the ones that he should be coming back on."

Horace nodded and went to go, then turned back to his unofficial, now-retired mentor. "Don't worry, Halt. I'll bring him back, safe and sound."

Halt nodded several times, his throat constricted by worry and doubt. Then he managed a hoarse whisper. "Make sure you do. I'm counting on you, Horace."

Horace saluted and strode purposefully out of the room, his stride and expression giving no sign of the racking anxiety that he felt.

* * *

Six days later, Horace arrived at the Fissure, its dismal cliffs frowning grimly down at him. He shook off the fanciful thought and dismounted, tying Kicker's reins to the sturdiest stunted tree he could find nearby, then searched for any sign of his best friend.

He hadn't gone more than ten paces when he stopped short and gasped. Blood!

Nervously, he followed the trail, fearing the worst. Again, he stopped dead, and saw a scene from his worst nightmare.

There, only two meters from the edge of the nearest cliff, lay a long-dead axman, covered with minimal armor, his weapon just out of his grasp, on his face a grotesque image of uncomprehending shock. Horace soon saw the reason why: his friend's long saxe knife, forced through the chain mail to the axman's heart.

He looked to the right, then to the left, his heart sinking as he saw more traces of the dried, dark-brown blood. They led right up to the edge of the cliff.

Horace sank to his knees. _No_, he thought miserably. _No._ Tears blurring his vision, he frantically got up and searched everywhere for any sign of his friend, but to no avail. Will was gone, lost somewhere in that horrifyingly long drop down, down, down...He cautiously walked up to the edge of the cliff and looked down. The mist starting about five feet down was unnaturally high today, he thought, then realized that it was mostly because of the tears forming rapidly in his eyes, streaming down his cheeks no matter what he did about them.

Horace sat there for a long time, pouring out his grief, mourning the loss of his best and oldest friend. He cursed the axman who had weakened Will so much, despite the fact that he'd died in the end, for being the cause for his closest friend's death.

Some time later, he got to his feet and turned to leave when he remembered something.

"Don't worry, Will. Your death will not have been in vain. And I'll bring Tug home safe and sound, for you."

Then he set off through the stunted undergrowth, searching for Will's Ranger horse. He whistled a couple times, then called Tug's name while continuing to walk around the vicinity. Then he heard a whinny and ran towards it. He breathed a sigh in relief. The sturdy, barrel-chested pony was only too recognizable. He quietly brought Tug back to Kicker and stood for a moment between four tangled bushes, considering what to do next.

Horace decided to get Halt from Castle Araluen, even if he was now a retired Ranger. Hopefully Crowley-though he was also about to retire-could help them out as well, though he didn't see how that was possible without leaving Castle Araluen majorly less defended. Horace decided that he might as well get going. There was nothing else for him to find here, and even if there was, he wouldn't be able to do it nearly as well as even the oldest retired Ranger left alive.

He tightened the girth straps on Kicker, untied him, then wheeled his horse away from the Fissure and gently urged him into a canter, Tug following, hoping to make excellent time and be back within ten days. His heart was heavy as he remembered what he would have to tell Halt about his former apprentice...

* * *

He returned three days later, having met Halt only after one-and-a-half days' travel on the road. Apparently the Ranger had been worried enough to set out after Horace, despite the fact that he'd now been a retired Ranger for over five years. Halt was even more grim and taciturn than ever after hearing the news, and Horace couldn't blame him. To have a young man like his own son defeated at the edge of a steep cliff only because of all his wounds, after beating an extremely determined axman using only his two knives, was...Horace couldn't put it into words, it was so terrible to even think about it.

"He was a great man," Horace said as they led their horses towards the edge of _that_ cliff.

Halt looked sidelong at him. "He was," he replied, in as few words as possible.

Horace heaved a deep sigh. "I only wish that he was alive right now. I'd gladly take his place right now. And-" he paused and looked at Halt again-"thanks for not telling his wife yet."

Halt shrugged. "You mean Alyss? It's common sense. Until I know for myself that Will is absolutely, certainly, no-way-out-of-it dead-" his tongue stumbled slightly on the last few words-"then I'm not going to spread the grief to anyone else."

"That's good then," a tired, hoarse voice called from ahead of them. "Because you won't have to."

* * *

Ooh, I think this is a good cliffy! Hehehe, now I'll leave you wondering whether Will actually died at all! Ah, I enjoy torturing readers. XD


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for all the reviews! I appreciate it greatly. :) Hopefully the second chappie was a lot better than the original first one.

I apologize to the readers that I have tortured. *bows humbly* Maybe giving you the third chapter will help...then again, maybe it won't...

* * *

Halt signaled for Horace to stay back while he investigated whether the person up ahead was who he thought it was. Though Horace couldn't see how, the Ranger still moved silently and with agility, darting from one patch of cover to the next.

Silence for several seconds.

Suddenly there were sounds of a scuffle up ahead and Horace immediately rushed ahead, not noticing the figures stealthily hidden downwind of all three horses.

"Halt! Are you alright?" he shouted as he burst into the open space at the edge of the cliffs, unsheathing his sword and searching for his unofficial mentor, then moving forward to attack the enemy when-

Something hit him, hard, on the head, his eyes crossed slightly, and he slumped on the ground, his sword falling out of his limp grasp.

Halt turned, bow raised and at the ready, to face the new enemy, now that the first one had been taken care of, but it was hopeless. Already there were seven warriors surrounding him, some with bows and some with swords, all pointing at him, and he realized that Horace had been taken. He cursed himself for not paying more attention to his surroundings. Slowly, he lowered the bow.

One of the warriors, with shiny armor and a gleaming sword, stepped forward and held out his hand. Sternly, he faced Halt. "Give me the bow. And your quiver of arrows. As well as your two knives." Then, as Halt failed to move, their leader brought his sword tip up to Halt's neck. "_Now._"

Reluctantly, Halt put the nocked arrow back in his quiver, unslung it and handed it to the still-suspicious warrior, and also gave the bow and knives in their distinctive double scabbard to him.

The man nodded slowly. "Good. Now we can make our way to your prison cells."

Halt and Horace's hands were bound behind them, and they were forced to walk in the middle of the group, twenty enemies in total. More than once, Halt asked them if they had taken his former apprentice. Each time, though, he was answered with a harsh laugh and shoved back to his place next to Horace.

"Where are they taking us?" Horace asked Halt in what he thought was a whisper.

The nearest warrior smirked at him. "Just you wait. You'll be taken right to the positions of honor. Your cells were specially made." He gave a short bark of laughter without any trace of humor entering his tone.

Halt shook his head slowly. There was a heaviness in his heart that he dared not show to neither his captors nor Horace. He felt as if he'd failed Will somehow. Failed him and all the friends that were back home waiting for him. If only he could have survived...

Unnoticed by everyone around him, a single tear trickled down Halt's cheek.

* * *

After twenty minutes, the prisoners found themselves at one of the few places where the cliffs on either side ran almost level with each other. The leader of the group, the one who had forced Halt to get rid of his weapons, took a rope grapnel out of his pack, and sent it flying over to the other side, where it caught on a sturdy tree branch.

The prisoners' hands were untied, but they were watched closely by the surrounding warriors and knew that any escape attempt would be futile. With a sigh of resignment, Halt moved forward to the edge of the cliffs and bent down to grab the rope.

Suddenly, he heard a familiar sound. Something so unbelieveable that he knew it couldn't be true: The deep-throated thrum of a longbow.

And as he recognized that sound, he heard others too. The cries of men in pain. The _hiss-thud!_ of arrows reaching their mark. Not daring to believe what he was hearing, Halt looked up and caught his breath. A short, slightly built figure stood at the edge of the trees, a massive longbow in his hands, his arms a blur as they nocked, drew, fired, over and over again. And in an instant, Halt knew who it was.

He didn't bother to call out, knowing that he would only distract the cloaked person attacking the enemy. Instead, Halt turned urgently to Horace and handed him a dagger taken from a hidden leg sheath. "You'll need this. It's time we took a hand in this battle."

And take a hand they did. Horace, grinning now, unsheathed his own hidden dagger and plunged into the fighting, using the double-knife defense to parry clumsy sword strokes and attack using his own weapons.

Halt looked for the archers, then realized there were none left. He smiled grimly to himself and withdrew two daggers from other hidden places, then lunged at the nearest enemy, taking him by surprise.

The battle was over within a few minutes. Halt and Horace, dusty and breathing hard, turned towards the Ranger that had stayed in his position by the trees.

"Is it really you?" Halt asked quietly.

The Ranger did not answer immediately, handing Halt his bow, quiver of arrows, and the double scabbard with the two knives sheathed in it. He accepted them wordlessly, filled with a sense of competence now that his trusted weapons were back. Then the Ranger handed Horace his long cavalry sword in its scabbard, which Horace promptly attached back on his belt.

"Thanks," he said.

The Ranger nodded, then sighed and began to lower the hood. Halt and Horace gasped, their eyes widening as they saw...

* * *

Teehee! Oops, I do believe I left out one _very_ important detail there...until the next chapter comes!

By the way, sorry about the delay on this chapter. Swimming started this week (for two-and-a-half hours!), and after that I barely had time to complete my school homework, let alone come on the computer and finish this chapter. But anyway...hope you enjoyed! Please review and tell me what you think! :)


	4. Chapter 4

OK, sorry for taking so long to update. Swimming's still going. And it will for about another 6 weeks. Hope you enjoy! And thanks for all the reviews! XD I _do_ enjoy torturing my readers.

* * *

_The Ranger nodded, then sighed and began to lower the hood. Halt and Horace gasped, their eyes widening as they saw..._

...short black hair and dark brown eyes with a steady, unwavering gaze.

"Do we know you?" Halt asked.

The stranger turned away, towards the trees, and took off running, ordering Halt and Horace to follow him. After ten minutes, they reached a small clearing between four prickly bushes.

"Wait here," the stranger said, then jogged towards the cliffs, apparently retrieving some supplies.

Halt and Horace exchanged a glance, shrugged, and settled down to wait. From time to time, they heard a muffled curse, the scuffling sound of something being dragged across the ground, and encouraging words and phrases. The two friends exchanged glances again.

Just then, the stranger appeared again, supporting another Ranger, this one smaller, battered, and thin. But his chocolate-brown eyes still lit up at the sight of two close friends sitting there, and the cheeky grin was all too familiar.

"Will!" Halt and Horace exclaimed at the same time, then rushed over to help the other Ranger help him to a clear space where he could relax.

Will leaned back and sighed deeply. "Thanks, Nick. I doubt I could have done it without you."

Halt turned from where he was examining his former apprentice to study the other Ranger. "Nick," he said, frowning as he tried to remember.

"Oh, of course. The one Will tutored at your first Gathering? You graduated the year I retired, if I remember correctly."

Nick nodded. "That's me."

In fact, he had passed with flying colors on his Final Assessment. Stuart and Liam, the other two Rangers in his year group, had also passed, but not nearly as admirably. Nor had they been assigned fiefs until nearly a year after Graduation.

Horace was now the one who frowned. "Then, if Nick went with you on the mission, why didn't Halt and I find out about it?"

"Last minute decision by Crowley," Will answered, wincing as Halt probed around his largest wound. "He wanted me to find out what it was like being a mentor, and said that it would be good for Nick to gain some extra field experience. And he didn't want you two insisting that I could take care of myself, or that I wouldn't be able to handle Nick, or whatever other reasons you could've come up with."

Halt gently rubbed salve over the various nicks and cuts on Will's body, as well as the larger wound. Will gritted his teeth at first, then relaxed as its pain-killing aspect kicked in. Then Halt cleaned the blood away and bandaged the more serious wounds.

"Thanks, Halt," Will murmured when his former mentor was done. Halt nodded in acknowledgement, then asked the question that had been taxing his mind ever since he'd sent Horace after Will.

"What happened? Why did it take you so long?"

Will slowly eased himself into a more comfortable position, then replied. "Some idiots in that cursed cult were spreading rumors about-"

"Just a minute, Will. What cult?" Horace asked.

Will nodded apologetically. "Apparently, there's a group of people who have decided to take over the Fissure and Morgarath's Plateau. Or at least, they tried to."

Nick growled, "Will and I tried to convince them otherwise. They call themselves the Vanquishers, a 'light in the darkness; the path to the Heavens'. Their deity is some _Zadu Lieber_. Whatever that means, we don't know. Supposedly 'All-Loving Deity' or something like that."

"Except they refused to stop annoying the Celts," Will continued grimly. "So Nick and I kept on them until they tried to kill us. That's when we asserted our full authority over them, and they reluctantly moved away from Araluen and Celtica, deciding to sail out for Hibernia."

"But they left some of their henchmen behind," Nick said bitterly. "We split up, to make sure they'd really done as they said. I found it all quiet at their previous base. But then I discovered faint footprints leading not towards the sea but towards Will, who was searching around the Fissure."

"I let myself get distracted," Will admitted. "I was peering over the edge of the Fissure-I'd heard a creaking sound and went to investigate when I sensed that something wasn't right. I-" He broke off sharply and peered into the surrounding trees. "Who's there?"

Instantly, Halt, Horace, and Nick were on their feet, looking in three different directions to try and spot the eavesdropper. Will settled back and observed through half-closed eyes, his face shadowed by the cowl as always, gaze darting back and forth to see anything out of the ordinary. Eventually, he saw the unwelcome stranger. He whistled silently. They were as good as a Ranger. In fact, better than most of the Corps. Will frowned. That meant that...

He swore under his breath. Horace turned towards him, leaving Halt and Nick to pretend to keep searching.

"What's wrong, Will?"

"They have Rangers..."

* * *

Oh boy. That's not good, is it?

Anyway, I apologize for the short chapter, and for the fact that it had a lot of dialogue in it. Please review, and expect the next chapter within the week! :)

(By the way, I really have no clue where I got the fake god's name from. XD It just...sorta popped into my head.)


	5. Chapter 5

OK, the fourth chapter wasn't that great. That's definitely true. I was wondering if you guys could help me improve it. And also, thank you so much for the reviews, again! I never thought I would have this much. XD

Without further ado, enjoy! Please review and tell me what you think! :)

*By the way, I edited it so that Will wouldn't seem so OOC. Thanks to Arlothia and RoMythe for pointing that out!*

* * *

__

"They have Rangers."

There was silence for a good ten seconds in the clearing.

Halt suddenly leaped into the surrounding undergrowth and the scene was a chaotic mess of flying dirt and twigs. After a few seconds, though, he emerged the victor, dragging a man wearing the traditional Ranger cloak into the clearing. Nick quickly produced thumb and ankle cuffs, and a rope tied around their prisoner's neck was attached to a nearby tree.

Halt stared at their prisoner and frowned slightly. The man seemed familiar somehow...

Nick roughly grabbed their prisoner's head and shoved the hood of the cloak back.

Halt nearly started in surprise. Just managing to conceal his true feelings, he growled, "Maelic."

Their prisoner smiled thinly. "That's right."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Nick was cantering away from the Fissure towards on his horse, Aidia. His jaw was set, his senses were alert, and his body was tensed, ready to react at a moment's notice.

_Don't worry, Will,_ he thought fiercely as he steered Aidia towards Castle Araluen. _I'll be back as soon as I can. With all the help we'll need._

He was proud and more than a little nervous that Will had chosen him, and him alone, to carry out the important task of informing Crowley and bringing reinforcements. Nick mentally ticked off the people they'd need.

_Five knights. At least. No, these people are serious. Ten knights. But that's going overboard. Seven._

_And then Rangers. Gilan, Andross, Skinner, Peter...will that be enough? Hopefully. Already Will and I are serving on this mission. If we didn't leave enough Rangers behind to guard the Kingdom..._

But he shook the thoughts away and concentrated on being aware of his surroundings. He smiled grimly. He'd like to see the enemy try to stop him. But if it didn't come to that he wouldn't complain. It wouldn't waste any of his time.

* * *

"What's going on, Halt? How do you know this man?" Will asked sharply, nudging the man's foot with his boot.

Horace looked up expectantly from where he was sharpening his sword. Halt sighed and relented.

"All right. Maelic was my apprentice-"

"_What?_" Will and Horace cried at the same time. Then, seeing Halt's glare, they hastily gestured for him to go on.

"As I was saying, Maelic _was_ my apprentice, for two years."

"He can't have learned everything in only that amount of time!" Will protested.

Halt shook his head. "He didn't. And also, Maelic wasn't his given name. His given name was Mark."

"Why-?" Will began to ask, then saw Halt's warning shake of the head.

"He was an excellent Ranger. Shooting skills were superb. He could aim at the center of a bump on a tree and hit it, both with his arrows and either of his knives. Decidedly sneaky. After several months' practice, he was almost as good as Gilan was in unseen movement, and pretty close to Crowley's skill in silent movement."

Will and Horace exchanged shocked glances. Gilan and Crowley were the Ranger Corps' acknowledged masters at the specific skills Halt had just mentioned.

"Then why-?" It was Horace this time.

"Some fools had gotten the most absurd ideas into his head," Halt said, sighing heavily. "His mind became-"

"Poisoned, and you didn't notice it until it was too late, right?" Will finished sarcastically. "Oh, and let me guess-he had to be banished from the Kingdom. You seem to care an awful lot for him, considering that he's a traitor!"

Halt moved closer to Will. "There's also something else, Will..." the grizzled ex-Ranger began, then whispered something into his former apprentice's ear.

Will reacted as if he'd been whipped. His eyes flashed murderously and his voice was low and dangerous as he replied, "It's not true! It _can't _be!" Halt drew breath to speak, but Will wasn't done. "There is no way in the whole blasted _world _that I-he-he and I-you know what I mean! And if you care for him so much, why don't you just get rid of me?"

And with that, he stomped out of the clearing, not looking back once at either his former mentor or the prisoner that seemed to have taken up all his attention.

* * *

"Will," a voice called from twenty meters behind him.

Will hurled another rock down into the Fissure below. Sighing, brows drawn together, he asked in a tone that clearly said he wanted to be left alone, "What is it?"

"You realize that that man was Halt's first apprentice."

Will grunted.

"And that Halt doesn't care any less for you."

Will gave no response this time.

Horace walked over and laid a hand on Will's shoulder. "I understand, Will. It's fine. You have every reason to be angry."

"That's blasted right, I do!" Will roared at the white mist below, jumping to his feet. He whirled around, facing his friend, the other emotions he was feeling clearly written on his face.

"How hard have I tried, Horace? How much did I do for him?" Will was struggling to keep his voice down and to stay calm, but just the sight of his best friend's sympathetic, understanding face helped.

"Who did I look up to? Who did I admire, and want to be like? Why did I try so hard? Do so well? Why did I become a full-fledged Ranger?"

Horace put both of his hands on Will's shoulders, stopping his rant. "Will," he said sternly, "calm down. Count to ten. Take a deep breath..."

Will did so until he thought his lungs would burst.

"...and let it out."

Again, Will did as he was told.

"Repeat the process, slowly."

Reluctantly, Will followed Horace's suggestion. Strangely, though, he found that it was working. He was breathing easier, his anger had cooled down a little bit-just a little bit, mind you-and his mind could logically reason out why he was so furious at Halt and so distrusting of their prisoner, supposedly some Maelic that had been banished from the country over thirty years ago.

Will waited thirty more seconds, to make sure he would be calm enough to explain, then quietly told Horace what was on his mind.

"Thanks, Horace," he said when he was done. "For everything."

Horace nodded. "I can't believe it either. I would be mortified if that guy was-"

"Don't even say it, Horace," Will said curtly.

"Sorry."

There was a long moment of silence between them, then Will sighed. "We might as well get back now."

* * *

Ooh, Halt and Will had a fight...

Well, technically speaking, yeah, they did. And Will hasn't gotten over how much Halt seems to care for this traitor to the Kingdom of Araluen. Why _does_ he care so much, anyway? You'll find out in the next chapter...hopefully...


	6. Chapter 6

Yes, I know, an incredibly huge delay. Major apologies to all my readers and especially my reviewers. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't kill me, since this story still has a long way to go...XD

I might even have the next chapter up in a few hours. It's already half-written. Consider it a treat before my month of stagnance. (see my profile)

* * *

Horace and Will had returned to their camp. Halt was sipping at a cup of coffee, but Maelic—or rather, Mark—was still tied awkwardly to the tree, staring hungrily at the coffeepot sitting on the fire.

Will didn't even glance at him, instead helping himself right away to the steaming-hot coffee and spooning a generous amount of honey into it. Horace followed suit.

Mark groaned out loud as he saw the three close friends all enjoying that wonderful coffee. Though it had been years since he'd been Halt's apprentice, he still remembered how sweet the coffee at the Ranger's cabin had tasted. Not even the best, richest coffee of the other Rangers—the ones he'd joined after being banished—had tasted as good as Halt's.

This time, Will looked up at him, eyes hardening.

"No traitor to Araluen will have Halt's coffee," Horace said for him.

"What is with you two?" Halt asked quietly. "Mark isn't a bad person. He's—"

"Then explain how he could have turned away from the Kingdom, Halt," Will replied, cutting him off. "He must have done something not so good to have been banished from the Kingdom. So what was it?"

Halt shook his head. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

There was a long moment of silence around the campfire.

"All right then," Will said. He turned to face Mark and glared at him. "What did you do to get yourself banished, _Maelic_?"

Another long pause as the fire crackled and slowly died down to glowing embers.

"I'd...rather not say." His voice was thick with pain and regret, but Will seemed not to notice.

"Oh, I see. You're so ashamed of yourself, of what happened in the past, that you can't man up. I should have known." The harshness of his own words surprised him, but he gave no sign of that to Mark.

"And you haven't ever been ashamed of something you did?" Mark replied softly. "Something that happened years ago...perhaps in Skandia?"

Will stood up. When he spoke, his voice was very quiet. Horace and Halt exchanged nervous glances.

"A little bird told you that, eh?" he asked.

"Will, it's alright. He's just trying to make you angry," Horace quickly interrupted Will's confrontation.

"No, it's not alright, Horace. He is the biggest embarrassment ever in the Ranger Corps. He ran away from home and forsook his family and friends for an evil cause. He is, quite frankly, a boasting buffoon who thinks he is better than everyone else. Not to mention that he is THE WORST OLDER BROTHER IN THE WORLD!"

Now a matching flame of anger burned in Mark's eyes. But Horace stepped in, confused.

"I thought you said he was your cousin or something."

"No, I said we were related. That we were family," Will replied curtly. "But now you know, and it can't be helped."

Now, Horace knew why Will had been so angry before. Halt must have told him...

"Alright then, my _wonderful_ little brother," Mark hissed, straining against his bonds trying to reach his weapons, laid on a nearby tree stump. "Come on! Be a man!"

"That is ENOUGH!" Halt roared at the two siblings. "Mark, if I ever hear you mention Skandia ever again, I will personally tan the skin off your backside—for real this time. And Will, stop overreacting and accept the fact that he is, indeed, your brother! Horace, why don't you take him away so that you two can have some time to yourselves?"

"Of course, Halt," Horace replied briskly, taking Will by the shoulder and steering him back the way they'd come, towards the Fissure.

When the two younger friends were out of earshot, Mark sighed and slumped on the ground. "Will he ever forgive me, Halt? What he said was true! And what if—"

"You two are going to have to learn to work together," Halt said quietly. "I hope Horace is talking some sense into him, because we will never be able to accomplish anything with you two arguing so ferociously, like what just happened."

Mark looked up at his former mentor questioningly. "Why? What are we doing?"

"We're going to have to fight, won't we?" was the grim reply. "Those Rangers of that new religious cult aren't going to stand around waiting much longer..."

* * *

"—the idiot!" Will was shouting as he paced back and forth. "How could he have known, Horace? Surely the news of my getting—you know—to _that—_couldn't have been told to everyone!"

Horace shook his head. "Halt wouldn't do that."

"I know he wouldn't, ordinarily," Will replied quietly. "But ever since my older brother came..."

"You know, you two are actually pretty similar," Horace said.

"What? How can _I_ be similar to that—that _traitor_?" Will growled, a flame of anger dancing in his eyes again.

"You hate spending time with each other. You both excel at being Rangers. You both have potent disguises in the form of instruments—you a mandola, he a lute. You had the same mentor, and both enjoy a close relationship with him. Not to mention the obvious family heritage that I should have noticed earlier. The same messy hair, yours brown, his turning gray; dark brown eyes that can show very frightening degrees of anger; slight build...I can't believe I missed the similarities before."

Will was quiet for some time. Reluctantly, he realized that Horace was right, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He took a deep breath. "I guess...part of the reason why I'm so mad..."

"Go on," Horace prompted him. To be honest, he was slightly worried about how hateful Will and Mark had just been to each other.

"Well," Will continued slowly, "if he'd run away after only two years of Ranger training, that means he left my parents behind. And only about two, three years after he was banished, Morgarath's rebellion began."

"He could have protected the three of them," Horace whispered as realization slowly dawned on him. "If he hadn't run off to join the renegade Rangers, he might have been able to help Halt when he almost went down in that surprise attack after Morgarath's initial retreat. And then your father..."

Will nodded grimly. "Daniel wouldn't have died."

* * *

*dramatic music plays*

Oh, the suspense...I'd like to thank everyone for their immense patience while I worked through the agonizing writer's block I had on this chapter. Particularly Arlothia, RoMythe, and Legolas Thranduilion (I spelled that right, right?) for being very faithful reviewers!

Everybody have an awesome Halloween! :) (Unless you've already had it...or if you don't celebrate it...)


End file.
